


Fleta's Birthday

by dionysianDaydream (500ADNunu)



Category: Mabinogi (Video Game)
Genre: Birthday, Drama, Family Drama, Fluff and Humor, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 20:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/500ADNunu/pseuds/dionysianDaydream
Summary: The Milletian sets out on their most difficult task yet, in this fluff-filled adventure that delves into the varied birthday-related woes of a few familiar faces about Erinn.





	Fleta's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> A response to a creative writing prompt on 'birthdays.'

Via some arcane maneuverings you have discovered that today is Fleta's _birthday_, and more out of curiosity and base idleness than anything, you decide to throw her a party. So it is, with cake already in hand, that you head to the one person in all of Erinn who might know where the mysterious sm0l witch of mystery actually _lives_.

Using an old dual gun beginner quest you've had with you for a while, you summon Tin at the beginner class quest board in Tir. 

“I know she likes to take Rab for walks at the Sen Mag Plains,” He tells you. "That's probably not much help..."

You raise an eyebrow at him, but he insists that's really all he knows.

It strikes you as curious that Fleta is his aunt, and yet this is all he could tell you about her. Something you already _knew_, ever since that time you had to make a new dog collar for her. Or, the time you needed to borrow some fairy dust from her to float across the lake in Emain Macha, because apparently just renting a boat was out of the question.

You deign to ask Tin _why_ Fleta is so darn mysterious to begin with, even among her relatives.

“She likes to move around a lot,” Tin replies simply, only _adding_ to the mystery.

“Auntie and I...don't talk very often.”

You swear, judging by the peculiar tilt of his helmet, that he is eyeing the steaming hot delicious Chiffon Cake of Will you have with you, but it's difficult to say for certain.

Regardless, you ask if he would like to come join in the festivities.

“Well, it's not like there are any new Milletians making use of the class board these days,” he says with a shrug, quickly fixing his helmet when it abruptly slid down his face. “So, sure! I l-l-_love_ cake!”

After clicking the big grey Exit button to leave the training instance, you are returned to Tir Chonaill.

It was weird to see Tin standing there with you this time, examining the contents of the beginner class board with his hand on his chin.

“You're never gonna get started on dual guns, are you?” He mused aloud.

As a Milletian with far too many potentially world-ending events on your plate, you nod your head solemnly.

“That's fine. At any rate, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but...”

He glances around first, to make sure that the DevCat cat isn't lurking nearby. _Watching._

“You're not missing out on much,” he whispers to you.

...

From there, the two of you set out for a bridge that leads out of town, when you are halted by Alissa, the _poster child_ for victims of lax child labor laws in Erinn if there ever were one.

“Hey!” She called out at you. “What's with the cake?”

“None of your business,” Tin snaps back.

“Excuse me!?” She scowls, standing before the two of you with her hands on her hips. “You're not the one holding it, so maybe _shut your mouth_, Tin!”

Tin grumbles something about kids not respecting their elders, but it goes ignored.

You inform Alissa that it is Fleta's birthday today, and that the two of you are going to throw a surprise party for her.

“Are more people gonna show?” She says. “If it's only the two of you, that sounds pretty dull.”

Tin scoffs. “Two is _fine. _And after all, three's a crowd, so we'd best be going...”

You ask Alissa if she would like to come as well, as you glimpse Tin rearing back in surprise out of the corner of your eye.

Alissa's face lights up. “Really!?”

Just as it does, she quickly regains her composure; returning to her usual serious, mature demeanor.

“Let me just find someone to look after the mill while I'm gone, and tell my sister...”

Tin groans. You wonder why he's suddenly acting so rude, but then you realize that with each added party guest there would be less cake to go around.

You pat him on the shoulder, and while Alissa is gone you swear to him that she will be the last.

“I'm sorry,” he says. “It's just that I...uhh...”

He hesitates.

“I really, _really_ like cake!”

He fumbles.

“Even though I...stopped celebrating my own birthdays a long time ago.”

You nod, but can't help but feel there is more to this story.

…

You, Tin, Alissa...and _Lassar_...have decided to make a stop at Dunby to shop for some gifts.

“Fleta is a lot more powerful than she looks, right?” Lassar asks aloud, as she's combing through the wands on offer at Stewart's Magic Shop. “These are probably too cheap for her standards.”

Alissa is trying to help her choose something, but it is clear that she is way out of her element.

“Not everyone is as obsessed with magic as you are, big sis.” She says.

Tin groans beside you, but you don't dare to ask him what's the matter after he'd been giving you the silent treatment this whole time.

“Fleta is a seamtress, right?” Lassar says. “Well, we should buy her some fabric!”

And so you visit the clothing shop in the square.

Simon is at a table mending a gown when you walk in, continuing at it even while you converse.

After chatting him up for a bit, you casually mention your sudden urgent need for tailoring materials.

“No can do,” Simon says, when you approach him with your request.

“Fine Leather doesn't just grow on trees, you know! Or else we'd _all_ be Rank 1 Tailors...”

Lassar and Alissa are poking through the store's luxurious offerings, discretely laughing among themselves at all the outdated textures. Tin is sulking in the corner. Simon, wanting desperately to rid his shop of you and your hooligans, looks you over to determine how best he can insult your wardrobe. Only then, does he notice the cake you have been awkwardly carrying around with you.

“So, where are you headed with that cake?”

You inform him that it's for a birthday party at Sen Mag Plains.

“Sen Mag?” He says, jolting up in his seat. “Heavens, why would you have a party there of all places?”

You tell him it's for Fleta, and his eyes visibly widen in apparent newfound interest.

“No kidding? _Today_ is her birthday?” He says. “That's actually kind of funny, because you see--”

He goes on to explain how he's been practicing at mending magically enhanced garments, admitting it's been a struggle, and that he could probably gain a lot from talking with the master of magical tailoring herself, if you would be so kind as to allow him to tag along.

You agree to his request, on the condition that he shower you with some quality leathers.

And also, that he provide a nice embroidered cover for the cake, as it was seriously starting to show some wear and tear.

“Sure, sure. For an opportunity like this, I...”

He claps his hands together.

“I can't believe that I'm actually going to get to meet _the_ legendary Fleta in person!”

Tin, at this time, has begun to repeatedly bang his head against a wall.

…

It is raining when your crew arrives at Sen Mag Plains, so You, Tin, Alissa, Lassar, and Simon all huddle around it as you make your way past the entrance to Tech Duinn, from whence an orange haired boy with puppy dog eyes emerges and relentlessly chases you for a bit, up until you manage to shake him off at one of several herds of giant bears that populate the area.

“What was that about?” Simon asks you.

You tell him that you're procrastinating on finishing up one of the generation quests, because the final boss made you rage quit.

“I don't really get it, but okay,” he says, and thankfully leaves it at that.

The rain is really starting to come down at this time, so your party makes a beeline for the nearest tree to find cover.

Alissa is sitting next to you, fidgeting anxiously.

You ask her what's wrong.

“I've...never been to a birthday party before,” she tells you.

Lassar, overhearing this, crawls into the space between you two. “Really?”

Alissa nodded, brushing a fledgling tear from her eye.

“Y-y-yeah. I was always too busy working at the mill to ever make the time. After a while, I stopped getting invitations altogether. Guess folks realized it was a waste to even bother.”

You exchange glances with Lassar, then you both reach out to try and comfort her.

“This is all my fault, Liss,” Lassar says. “You worked so hard to get me into Magic School, but really _I'm_ the big sister, so it should have been the other way around.”

Alissa shakes her head. “No, that was my choice, and I stand by it.”

The two sisters cannot contain their sobs at this point, while you awkwardly try to scoot away, not wanting to get any more wet than you have already.

“I love you Alissa!”

“I love you too, big sis!” She sniffed. “And I would trade all the birthday parties in the world just to make you happy!”

“Please don't! _Please_, Liss! I'm _already_ so, so happy!”

While all this is going on, Tin sits cross-legged, staring at the cake. Or rather what had become of it, as the sad, mushy, sludgy mess was falling over and pathetically oozing off the plate.

Simon is standing nearby, resting his back against the tree while he watched the rain.

“I don't get it,” Tin says, muttering to himself. “I'm practically immortal, and I can just go out and buy a cake whenever I please, if I really wanted to...but that's...”

Through the rain and fog, Simon spots something approaching from the distance.

It turns out to be Fleta, standing out from such dreary surroundings in her bright yellow raincoat. She gets Rab's attention by whistling, producing a sound like a shrill chirp, before heading for cover under the same tree you all are under.

“Oh,” she says. “This is...unexpected.”

No one says anything to her, as a general air of misery has fallen on the party.

That is except for Simon, as he timidly approaches Fleta. “I-i-it's really you, isn't it!?”

Fleta just blinks at him. “Yes, it's me. And you are...?”

“I'm Simon, and...well, you see, I've always been a great fan of your work!”

He procured a bag full of pieces of leather and handed it to her.

“I heard it was your birthday,” he said, watching as she proceeded to gingerly poke through the contents of the bag. “So, I brought you a little something, from one _world renown_ tailor to another.”

You loudly clear your throat, prompting Simon to glance back at you, looking flustered.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, I meant _we_. _We_ brought you this—all of us—as a gift.”

“Thanks,” she said flatly, then set it down; aside, out of the way. Her main concern lays elsewhere.

“Miss Fleta,” Simon continued excitedly, “I know you must get asked this all the time, but I am a promising young talent in search of a teacher. A mentor. A guide. One that might--”

Before he can finish, Fleta turns away to face toward Tin.

“You're here too.”

He is sitting there with his head hunched.; his crazed, mumbling self-talk now fallen to an inaudible whisper.

She reaches out to touch him gently on the shoulder.

“Auntie,” he says.

“What's that over there?” She asks, cocking her head in the direction of the mushed cake.

“It was supposed to be your birthday cake, Aunt Fleta.”

“How tragic.”

Tin jolts up to his feet with both fists clenched in seeming anger. “Tragic!? Is that all you have to say?”

Fleta says nothing. Doesn't so much as flinch from the sudden outburst.

“You know what's _tragic_ is that you were never there for any of _my_ birthdays!”

“And yet...here I am, just trying to be there for you on _yours _anyway, but the cake...it's...”

He trails off, flashing his hand in the direction of the deflated and unsightly, once-upon-a Chiffon Cake of Will splayed out on the ground in front of him.

You, Lassar, and Alissa watch the drama unfold in silence, anticipating what will happen next.

Suddenly, Fleta _tackles_ Tin to the ground.

Rab starts barking wildly.

You, the sisters, and Simon stand back from what looks to be a scuffle breaking out.

But in reality, the apparent attack was _actually_ a hug, as Fleta continues to hold Tin in a tight embrace on the ground.

“You're such a good boy,” she says in her usual monotone voice, as she softly strokes the back of his neck.

“C-c-cut that out, Auntie!” He pleads, rolling around in the soggy dirt trying to get her off, but the small girl is much, much stronger than she appears.

“I remember you used to love being pet like this on your back, when you were just a baby.”

“W-w-well I'm not anymore! And I haven't been, for quite some time!”

“It has been a few centuries, sure,” she says. “But so what?”

Tin lies still, accepting that there's no use trying to escape from Fleta's iron grasp.

“I mean...birthdays are pointless to us now, but don't you sometimes still kind of miss them?”

“Birthdays aren't pointless,” Fleta says sternly. “I miss when you used to always come by to celebrate them with me.”

“All this time, I...didn't know. I never thought it meant as much to you, as it did to _me_.”

“What made you think that?” She says. “All this time, I thought _you_ were giving _me_ the cold shoulder.”

Tin grumbles, “You still could have come by from time to time...”

“I tried, but no one could tell me where you lived whenever I asked around.”

You suppress a laugh at the sheer irony.

Fleta relaxes her hold on Tin, and as they go on talking the others of the group start to join in, steering the conversation in all different directions.

As the rain dies down, everyone is laughing and having a good time. The only exception might be when Lassar asks Fleta how old she's turning, which earns her a sharp glare, but even after that minor faux pas the merrymaking quickly resumes. 

“This is...nice,” Simon says. “I never had a lot of good experiences with birthdays, growing up.”

He goes on to talk about how the other kids used to pick on him constantly. Mentiona how one time, his schoolmates even conspired together to shove his face into his own birthday cake!

“I started sewing and crafting things to give them as gifts, but even then it was never enough.”

_Kids are jerks_, you tell him, having lived as one many hundreds of times over and seeing it first hand.

Tin looks over at Alissa, your words having struck a chord with him.

“I'm sorry I was so mean to you earlier,” he said. “I was afraid having more people here would ruin my time with Auntie, but that hasn't been the case at all.”

“Kind of like how for all my birthdays it was just me and big sis,” Alissa says, at this time all smiles.

But Lassar sighs. “I could never afford anything _decent_ to buy as a gift. Although, that never stopped us from having a good time.”

Kind of like right now, you add, and the group erupts in laughter.

But Fleta has been watching and listening intently the whole time, with her arms wrapped lovingly around Tin's shoulders. She ignores Rab when he comes by to ferociously lick her ear, shifting her gaze to the bag of leathers Simon had brought her.

“You should keep those,” she says to him. “I have enough already.”

Simon at once declines, insisting it would be most improper, when Fleta jumps up and motions for him to let her whisper something to his ear.

It wouldn't be until a few months later that you would learn about what she'd said to him.

...

On the morning of one rather special day, Alissa was about to get started on her shift at the mill as normal, when she was suddenly ambushed!

You, Tin, Simon, Lassar and Fleta jumped out from behind a nearby tree.

In your hands was a freshly baked and fully edible Chiffon Cake of Will, and in Simon's was a truly _gorgeous_ magical dress he'd made under the guidance of Fleta using the leathers she'd returned.

And then, all in one voice you declared with cheer, “_happy birthday_!”


End file.
